Editing poetry: Obscurograph

I am labelling this as satire. Take note! I hope I need not say more.   I remember being very angry when I wrote this!

There is little to interest me
In the light sloping over
A waking crowd
The dance of particle
Wide wave neon salute
Momentary history of photons

Nothing of note
In the bitter silence
The diaphragm rise
And shriek of expressed ire
The way her hands
Frame your face
Tracing a finger on the
Outside of the window

Instead I’d rather be
In the archives and footnotes of history
The print is so small
That reading almost touches knowledge
And I decided
That everyone should know
The most famous clockmaker
In all of 17th century Bern
Imagine how he tore his bread
And polished his spectacles
Quite unlike anyone had done before
Or is doing now
A thickness of glass away

Those yellowed pages
Of the dictionary
Unwilling to part
I cling to the dust
Leftover creation
Only in the places where
We’ve grown bored of looking


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